Tailspin
by springfieldbluebird
Summary: Hutch becomes despondent over a case. Can Starsky pull him out of the tailspin before it's too late? Please read and review. Second S and H fic. Will be multi-chapter.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: These characters are not mine. I love themdearly, though.**

**This is my second S & H story It will be multiple chapters. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I liked writing it!**

* * *

"This is Zebra Three. We are responding."

* * *

When Starsky looked back on it all, it had started with the kid. They were responding to a domestic abuse/disturbing the peace call on an early Tuesday morning and as soon as they pulled up, they heard shots from inside the apartment building. With only a quick glance that communicated all they needed to know, they jumped from the car and headed in, covering each other on their way to the apartment. Several frightened citizens in the hallway pointed them toward the right door and Starsky went first.

A leap took him into the man holding the gun, and they both fell to the floor. It wasn't long before Starsky wrestled the suspect into cuffs. When done, he looked up and saw Hutch returning from clearing the rest of the rooms. His partner checked the woman on the floor, then met Starky's questioning gaze. He shook his head to indicate that she was dead. Then he turned to the little blond-haired boy who was standing over to the side, eyes like large pools of dark water. "Close your eyes, kiddo." Hutch murmured, and swept the kid into his arms and out of the room, away from the slaughter.

A few minutes later the uniforms arrived and Starsky turned the father over to them gladly. If he stayed in the same room with the man any longer, he knew he was likely to kill him, or send him to the hospital at the very least. The creep had given a rage-filled confession, exclaiming what a "bitch" his wife was and how "no woman was going to give him an ultimatum and if he couldn't have her, nobody could." Starsky had finally thrown him into the wall to shut him up, and the bully had crumpled like a piece of aluminum foil. They always did.

He saw that a crowd of people had gathered and were standing in the entrance, watching Hutch who was kneeling by the little boy. The blond had taken off his jacket and was using the edge of it to wipe as much of the blood and gore off of the kid's face as he could. _Jesus, the kid must have been right there when his father blew his mother's brains out_, Starsky realized with horror, his mind still processing the scene. The child's blue eyes were locked onto Hutch and the detective's tenderness in dealing with the kid seemed to be working to keep him calm. Starsky didn't miss noticing the trembling in Hutch's hands, however. The cases that dealt with children were always some of the hardest on the two cops.

"Look at me. That's good. Just look at me, kiddo." Hutch's voice shook for a moment and his eyes darted briefly to Starsky. The brunet came over and knelt beside the little boy as well, putting a hand on his shoulder and smoothing back his sweaty hair. The kid wasn't crying at all, until he heard his father's voice rising in volume again from the apartment. Apparently the son-of-a-bitch didn't like the treatment the uniforms were giving him either and he'd recovered enough to complain. _Tough shit_, Starsky thought. He was clenching his fists, thinking of ways to shut the bastard up, but he forced himself to calm down and focus on the situation at hand.

"My mommy. She got hurt." The boy's eyes, now luminous with tears, searched Starsky's own. It was as if the little one could pick up on the rolling emotions in the tide of Starsky's own soul.

The detective's heart lurched. The kid's eyes reminded him of being in 'Nam, and memories of that place were never good for Starsky. Soldiers fresh off the truck had the same shell-shocked look after caught in their first firefight. Seeing a child like this was unbearable. All his words seeped away, and he looked at Hutch helplessly.

Hutch wasn't doing much better, but he wrapped the kid in his strong arms, intending to carry him towards the paramedics outside. "Don't worry, you're safe, fella. I got you." Over the kid's little blond head, he met Starsky's eyes. "I'm gonna get him to the paramedics and stay with him until..." _until a relative or child protective services comes. _ That part was understood between the two of them. Even though the situations were not usually as severe as this one, children were taken from their homes far too often in their world.

"Go." Starsky had said, nodding. "I got it here."

He continued to meet the little one's eyes over Hutch's shoulder as he carried the child through the maze of cars. Tears slipped down the little boy's cheeks. _Just like 'Nam_, Starsky thought. It would take a long while for that face and this horrible day to fade from his memory.

* * *

It had taken six long hours to close the case and finish the preliminary paperwork. Starsky had found that the father's name was Jack Ray. The asshole and his wife had collected quite a number of citations for disturbing the peace throughout their tumultuous 5 years of marriage. It was the same old tired, depressing story.

When the little boy, Billy, was two, he had been taken from the home and sent to live with a grandmother after a short stint in foster care. Starsky had learned most of this from Ray and what he hadn't learned from Ray, he found out by searching the records. By five that afternoon, he had formally arrested Jack Ray for murder, along with a few other charges. After filling in Hutch on what he'd missed, the two of them sat across from each other, completing the paperwork.

"The kid's grandmother seems like a standup woman." Hutch said, running his hands through his disheveled blond hair. "I think he'll be taken care of, but…" Hutch trailed off and pressed his fingers against his closed eyes. His friend knew the gesture and it made the bleak day feel even more miserable.

Starsky finished Hutch's thought quietly. "He's never gonna be the same again. But at least he's alive." He met Hutch's eyes and said what they both knew. "It could have been worse."

Hutch didn't reply.

Starsky continued to work silently for a while. Silence between them had never been uncomfortable, but this silence seemed omnious. "I think this is about it for this report," he finally said. "Whatcha say we go to Huggy's and get shitfaced drunk?"

Hutch looked down at his clothes. He had tossed his bloody jacket in the nearest garbage can, knowing that he would never want to look at it again, and the blood wouldn't come out anyway. His favorite green tee had little fist sized smears on it as well. "Starsk, I need a shower first. Then I'm up for as much booze as Hug can throw at us."

Starsky grabbed his keys. "Sounds like a plan, partner. I'll drive."

* * *

Over the next two weeks, things with Hutch went into a tailspin. Starsky felt powerless as he watched each tragic case unfold and weigh down his best friend. Usually they were able to shake it off, to approach the next day and let the previous one go without feeling the effects. It didn't mean they didn't care…they solved each case like it was the most important one in the world. They simply had to take each case for what it was, do their absolute best at solving it and move on to the next one. You couldn't survive out there if you couldn't do that. There were just so many cases-never a shortage of work for the two of them. However, it seemed as if Hutch had begun to be sucked down into a whirlpool of despondency as soon as he had grabbed onto that little boy. There seemed to be no escape, either.

The latest cases had been particularly rough to deal with. After little Billy Ray, there was the murder of an eight year old girl. She'd been snatched, and with no leads during the first two days, time had run out. They'd found her murdered in a vacant lot on Central. She had been sexually assaulted. It had hit them both hard, especially Hutch. Before the eight year old, there had been the 17 year old prostitute who had been forced, by her pimp, to down a milkshake of Drano and bleach because she'd tried to hold on to ten dollars of her earnings. That had not been a picnic either. It was enough to make you hide your head in a hole and give up on the whole human race.

The thing that bothered Starsky the most about his friend was the silence. If Hutch was talking, it was all ok. He'd complain and rant and get his anger and frustration out in that manner. The brunet knew it was the usual way they both dealt with some of the more inhuman aspects of the job. This time was different, however. Hutch had begun to withdraw, especially over the past week. Lines of tension on his face seemed carved in ancient stone and unlikely to fade any time soon. When asked, he simply said nothing, or he just stared at Starsky and made the minimal reply.

Today was their day off, however. He'd talked to Hutch earlier that day and they'd made plans to grab dinner at Huggy's, their favorite watering hole. Maybe he would be able to get Hutch to talk today, he had thought. All day he had turned different scenarios in his mind. But his partner hadn't shown up by six, as he'd promised.

The phone rang hollowly again for the ninth time. Starsky's jaw tightened, and he muttered "Shit!" through clenched teeth. Huggy watched as the cop slammed the receiver down on the payphone. There was a growl of frustration, then Starsky closed his eyes and laid his head against the phone receiver.

"No Hutch tonight?" Huggy raised an eyebrow as he picked up Starsky's empty beer mug from the counter running along the wall.

"No. He's not answering. I've called three times." Starsky said, then raised his head, tapping the phone receiver thoughtfully. "Something's wrong. We had plans." He muttered. "Hug, I've had this bad feeling all day. All week, really."

Usually Huggy was smooth talking and offhanded with his comments. Today, however, he grew serious. He knew many people on the streets, but was only friends with a very few of them. He counted Starsky and Hutch among that number. "You had a bad feeling about Hutch, you mean?"

"Yeah. He's been real quiet. It ain't like him, Hug. The last few cases have been for shit, and I think it's getting to him."

"You know, ya'll usually ain't wrong when the other's got a problem." Huggy narrowed his eyes, remembering many times when one of the cops would have a "hunch" about something going on with the other one. "You guys are like twins—you always right when you get one of them feelings. I had these two cousins like that. They were twins…and could tell when the other one was hurtin' or in danger." He looked thoughtfully at Starsky. "Maybe you better get over there and check on the tall, blond one. Give me a call when you know he's okay."

"Yeah." Starsky said, clapping Huggy on the shoulder. "Put the bill on my tab!" He called over his shoulder as he headed for the front entrance, and the Torino beyond.

"Yep." Huggy nodded, not even bothering to complain this time.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: I am working on the next sections of this now. This story has proven difficult to get out, but I'm getting it...slowly but surely. Thanks for all previous and future comments. They mean a lot!

**Chapter TWO**

Starsky knocked softly. There was no answer at first, then as he knocked louder, he heard Hutch call from inside. "It's open, Starsk."

It was dark. That was the first thing Starsky noticed. Only one sallow bulb from the living room threw off a feeble, sickly light. The second thing he noticed was Hutch lying on the couch. There were at least six empty beer bottles on the table and one half-empty bottle of scotch cradled in Hutch's arm.

_Shit._ He thought. Something just smelled wrong here, and it wasn't the scent of alcohol. He tried to remain casual. "How could you tell it was me? It's kinda dark in here." Starsky said, reaching casually down to flip on a lamp by the door. It cast a weaker, but friendlier glow across the room.

"Who else would it be, buddy?" Hutch was slurring his words, and his eyes were dark in the faint light. "Want a drink?" He held out the bottle of scotch.

"Yeah, sure." Starsky took a large swig from the bottle and set it on the coffee table. The burning in his gut from the liquor didn't quell the anxiety of seeing Hutch out of sorts. The two of them knew how to party, but had always kept it within bounds. This was different—Starsky knew it was different the same way he always knew what Hutch was feeling. "What's up? I was waitin' on you at Huggy's."

Hutch sighed and focused his gaze on Starsky. "Yeah. Sorry. I didn't think I'd be very good company this time." His gentle blue eyes were watery and sad. "I meant to call. I just…didn't."

Starsky sat down beside the couch, feeling a pain in his heart from seeing his best friend driven so low. "Tell me about it." He put his hand on Hutch's arm, both comforting him and urging him to talk at the same time.

"What's to tell?" Hutch asked. "Just when I think I've seen the worst, some bastard comes along and shows me I was wrong." He held out his hand and Starsky reached out to grab the bottle and return it to him. The alcohol had loosened Hutch's tongue and Starsky wanted to keep him talking, if he could. A talking Hutch was good. "That kid yesterday." Silvery tears trembled in Hutch's blue eyes as he shook his head, unable to say more.

Neither one of them had handled the situation with the little girl very well. Starsky had more of a visceral reaction—seeing the dead child in the grass had turned his stomach inside out and he'd barely made it to the other side of the lot before he lost his lunch. Cursing, Hutch had punched and kicked the trunk and rear quarter panel of his car until there were several giant dents and his knuckles were bleeding. They had been so sure they would find her in time. When they had discovered that the killer was a caretaker of a church on 12th and Oak, they had sped, only to find the little broken body lost in the vacant weeded lot next door to the church. They had been too late only by mere hours.

"Yeah. I know. It's a goddamned shame." Starsky could still see the little girl—the flash of her little floral dress among the weeds still standing out in his mind. He knew with a certainty he would be tormented by the image for a long time to come. He'd known Hutch felt the same way by seeing how he had gone after the caretaker when they'd finally found him. The blond had tackled the fleeing murderer and, once the man had a bloody face and certainly a broken nose…then and only then had Starsky pulled Hutch off of him. He'd had to use every bit of his strength to hold Hutch back from completely pulverizing the man's face.

When Starsky shook off that memory, he saw that Hutch was wiping his face with the heel of one hand. Given some time, the anger had changed, morphed into frustration and depression. Starsky glanced down to give his partner some privacy for a moment. It wasn't the first time that either one of them had unabashedly shown emotion in front of the other. Some detectives were able to do their job and cut off all the feelings and emotions, but that process had always been an enigma to Starsky and Hutch.

Starsky leaned his head against the sofa and closed his eyes. He couldn't see how to help his friend and he didn't like it. Not a bit. After a moment, he felt Hutch's head lean against his own and they stayed that way for a long time, reveling in the company of the only one who completely understood the other.

"Maybe we need some time off…" Starsky began. "Dobey owes us for that overtime we put in on those gas station robberies."

Hutch shook his head. "It wouldn't make any difference. There will still be dead kids, dead hookers, dead junkies on the street…just another beautiful day in the neighborhood." The tone in his voice challenged Starsky for an answer, a resolution that couldn't ever be. Evil was a fact. Evil thrived in the shadows, and it would always be there, no matter what they did, Hutch realized.

Starsky's face was tight with worry. "Look. I know how you feel. You know I do, Hutch. But…we gotta be there for those dead kids, dead hookers and dead junkies. Who else is gonna make sure that the people responsible pay? You can't expect the DA to help—he just wants to take cases he can win or get good publicity for. You can't expect their families to be strong enough to do that. That's us—WE have to be strong enough to see the ugliness and turn it into justice 'cause no one else is gonna do it." His hand squeezed Hutch's arm and he lifted his head to meet Hutch's eyes. They stayed that way for long moments; Hutch's cornflower blue eyes met Starsky's faded denim blue ones, and they each silently drew strength from the other.

"Yeah," he breathed. "You're probably right." He didn't sound convinced, however.

"I'm worried about you, Hutch."

"I'm worried about me, too, Starsk." Hutch admitted with a wretched laugh. "But you know, life goes on. It's gotta."

"Yeah." Starsky murmured. "I'm here for you, partner. Just don't forget that."

The tide of emotion affected them both again and Hutch struggled, trying to fight the tears. He simply nodded-it was all he could do-and leaned his head back against Starsky's and they sat that way for a long, long time.

Finally Starsky stood up, stretching to work the kinks out of his back. "Let me get you some water before you go to bed. It'll help with the hangover."

Hutch made a sound of assent; his eyes had gotten heavy as the alcohol continued to catch up with him. "Thanks." He set the scotch on the table, swung to a sitting position on the couch and ran his hands through his hair.

Starsky noticed fragments of broken glass in the kitchen, shining like diamonds in the semi-light. There were a few dents in the kitchen wall above the wreckage. When he opened the cupboard, he noticed that there were no glasses. It didn't take a detective to figure out what had happened. He grabbed a mug from the dish drainer and filled it with water. "Hey, was there an earthquake or something and I missed it?" He raised an eyebrow as he handed the water to Hutch.

"Nope. Just a double dose of that ole' Hutchinson temper." The blond finished the water and allowed Starsky to help him up and towards his bed. "You stayin'?" Hutch asked sleepily as he tugged off his shoes and curled up against the pillows.

"Yep. You need anything, I'll be right on that couch over there." Starsky just didn't feel comfortable leaving Hutch alone just yet. "Just call for me." He reached out and tugged a blanket over Hutch before placing his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"You betcha." Hutch's breathing was already slowing, "Glad you're here." The blond murmured as sleep claimed him.

"Me too, blintz. Sleep now." Starsky reached up and smoothed Hutch's unruly hair back absently. He turned the lights down and went to find the blankets and extra pillows for crashing on the couch. It wasn't the first time he'd stayed and it wouldn't be the last. Hutch was going to be ok; Starsky would see to it personally.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: Sorry it's been so long between chapters. I have rewritten this story four different ways (arrghhh!), and I think I finally have the correct direction now. Thanks for all the comments and kind words. I hope this story lives up to your expectations! :)

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Chapter 3

Jackson Douglas answered the cheap black rotary phone in his hotel room at the Hotel Marie. It was not one of Bay City's best lodging houses, but it was perfect for business best done anonymously. And professional hit man was an anonymous business if there ever was one.

"Talk to me."

The voice on the other end was John Smith, most certainly an alias, but aliases didn't concern Douglas. Even his own name was an alias, and anyway, he already knew that the man on the other end worked for Ben Forest, crime boss who was currently incarcerated at State Prison for certain charges against some Bay City police officer. It had been in the papers, and even an east-coast hit man was up on that kind of news. Ben Forest's tentacles had far-reaching influence, even all the way to New York.

"My employer has offered two hundred thousand dollars for this job. It has to be handled with the right touch, if you understand my meaning."

"Yeah…if he wants to get out of jail and avoid a retrial. I understand." Douglas smirked. "Stop playing games and just come right out with it."

"Your employer wants you to go to an apartment at Venice Place and take care of a cop."

"I figured as much. How does he want it done?"

"Instructions and uh…the tools to do the job will be sent."

"I have my own ways and my own tools."

"No. This job has 'special circumstances.' You're being paid extra for following the parameters."

He sighed. "Fine. When can I expect to hear from you again?"

"Five days. We will call and set up a meeting to give the second half of the payment when the job is done."

"I'll be here."

Click.

* * *

Hutch came out of the market with a sack of fruit and vegetables—restocking up on all the "health food" that Starsky continually swore would kill a healthy man. It was nice being out by himself for a while. When his partner's motherly instincts came out, he often over-did the job. Not that Starsky's single-minded watchfulness bothered him, but after five days, he'd needed a little bit of a break, if only for a short time.

_Starsk_. Hutch smiled, thinking about his partner. He was probably the best friend that Hutch could have ever asked for. Ever since they'd first met, they'd been inseparable. Two halves of the same whole. He hadn't really appreciated it on its deepest levels back then, but now…they'd been through so much together, he couldn't imagine being without his brother. They had lost loved ones together, had fought together, had been shot at together and had saved each other from dying. It had forged an almost supernatural bond between the two of them that they both relied on and couldn't explain to anyone. An outsider would never understand.

It had been that bond that had allowed Starsky to pull him away from the darkness that had threatened him. He tried not to allow his mind to go back there, but he couldn't help it. After that little boy and girl, Hutch had really thought he was going to go crazy. He saw brutality every day, and when it was directed against everyday people-the people he tried to stand up for-it was bad enough. But children…it was an unbearable horror. Maybe he had just seen his share of death and needed a chance to restore his faith in the world before going on.

Starsky had been there for him, refusing to allow him to be alone. A lot of nights after work were spent together silently playing chess or watching some late tasteless horror movie on TV. Also, their cases had seemed to become a little easier to handle for a while; Hutch didn't know if it was just chance or if Starsky had talked to Dobey about lightening up their caseload a little. Neither would have admitted it if he'd asked them, so he didn't. He was just thankful for the break. Now he felt ready to get back to the real work of breaking the hold of evil on his city.

He placed the bag of groceries on his seat and slid in beside them. Things were going to be okay, Hutch felt for the first time in a long time, as he started the car to head back to Venice Place.

When he reached his apartment, Starsky's red and white tomato was parked in front. He was sitting inside, reading the newspaper.

"Hey." Hutch came around his car and over to the driver's side of the Torino. "Why didn't you go on up?"

"I saw you had taken your key and so I decided to get the crossword done before you got to it." Starsky shook his head. "What's a 12 letter word for gloomy?"

"Do you know any of the letters?"

"First one's gotta be a D."

"Disconsolate." Hutch said, as Starsky got out, still filling in the blocks.

"Yep. That fit."

"Of course it did." Hutch's smile was hidden behind his grocery bag. "Let me put this stuff away and then we can go get some lunch before our shift."

"Ok. 5 letter word for ambivalent?" Starsky followed him up the stairs.

"Is the last letter an N or a D?"

"I think it's a D."

"Undecided." They had reached the top step as Starsky's comment finally hit him. "You said my key wasn't here?"

"Yeah. You didn't take it with you?"

Hutch felt around on the door frame and frowned. He checked the door handle without opening the door, and it was unlocked. He knew he had locked it. Setting the groceries down, he drew his weapon. Starsky's smoothly silent movement was an echo of Hutch's.

They entered the apartment to find it darkened and empty. The two officers, moving as one, cleared the area easily. Everything was in place, except the back door leading out onto the porch. It was open. Hutch raised an eyebrow, knowing he hadn't left it like that. He examined the porch, but no one was there and everything was in place.

"Well, nothing was stolen." Hutch holstered his weapon and Starsky followed suit.

"Hmmm…." Starsky turned around, eyeing the entire space, trying to imagine who had a reason to come in Hutch's place and why. "Maybe we scared 'em off?"

Hutch shrugged. He stepped back outside the door carefully, retrieved the bag of groceries and placed them on the kitchen table. As he did so, he held up the key he'd found on the table. "Nice of the guy to leave the key for me."

"Well, maybe the criminals are getting more civilized." Starsky came over and began helping Hutch put away the groceries. "You might want to bunk with me a few days, just in case this is more than what it seems…"

"Yeah, sure. Better to be safe than sorry." There were a lot of criminals that had a vendetta against the two officers, so it was a good idea. Hutch looked around once more, still feeling the eerie feeling that someone had been in his home.

"Pack a bag and let's go get some lunch. I'm starved. How about Hank's Franks and Burgers?"

Hutch shook his head and groaned, "If a burglar doesn't get me, you're determined to finish the job, huh?"

"Of course." Starsky said smugly. "What's a partner for?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: Thanks again for being so patient. I hope I'm not posting this too soon, but I'm up to Chapter Seven now, so maybe I'll be ok in posting. More to come very soon! Thanks for reviews! I love them almost as much as I love S and H!**

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Chapter Four

Hutch spent three days at Starsky's apartment. In that time, neither of them noticed anything unusual when they checked Hutch's place, and by the end of the fourth day, Hutch headed home after work, instead of over to Starsky's place. Perhaps it had just been a junkie looking for something to steal and pawn, and they had scared him off, Hutch reasoned.

Between carrying his duffel bag and take-out from Larry's Noodle Palace, Hutch noticed the man inside his apartment too late. _Here it comes…_he had time to think as he dropped everything and threw a punch into the stomach of the gigantic behemoth in front of him. He tried to dodge the jab thrown at him but it connected with his stomach and knocked the wind out of him. At the same time, his second punch caught the guy right on the nose and blood burst everywhere. They continued trading jabs for a moment, and Hutch was stunned by the power behind the man's onslaught. _He boxes like a professional,_ Hutch had time to think as he struggled to defend himself.

After catching the man under the eye, Hutch stepped back, to give himself a second to recover and draw his gun from his shoulder holster. Before he could complete the action, however, the large man tackled him to the floor. It was a solid hit and Hutch was dazed for a second. He finally managed to draw his weapon, but it was knocked from his hand as soon as he got it. It spun across the floor, maddeningly out of reach. Wrestling for long moments, Hutch got the upper hand, then lost it again as the intruder used his superior weight to his advantage. He was tiring from the constant assault, and looked again in desperation for his gun or any weapon. When he cast his eyes across the room, the goon took the chance to pull his own gun and smash Hutch across the face more than once. Things went gray for a moment, and then Hutch was down for good.

With a rushing sound, color came back into focus around him. The voice of his attacker faded in and out like a faint radio signal.

"…admit you're one good fighter…too bad, cop."

There was a taste of blood in his mouth. His head throbbed horribly and opening his eyes was looking into the sun; the brightness sliced into his brain like a knife. He was pretty sure he had a concussion or worse. Hutch groaned and tried to roll away from the hands holding his arm because every fiber of his body was screaming a warning, but he couldn't seem to gather his strength to fight.

"Yeah, I thought you were awake. I hear you had a taste for this stuff, once. Not me. I'm more of a whisky man, myself. But to each his own."

With a superhuman effort, Hutch again tried to pull away, but he couldn't seem to gather his wits about him. There was a chemical smell in the air that made his stomach lurch and a searing pain stung his arm.

"Nooo…" He began to struggle, but it was no use. The heroin rushed through his veins and sucked what was left of his strength away. He growled in frustration and helplessness. Once the man let him go, he was free to move and utterly unable to do it. He could feel the filth spreading through him and infecting him.

The killer checked Hutch's eyes and seemed satisfied. There was the sound of things being moved around. The hazy feeling of oblivion had almost devoured Hutch's consciousness when he was snapped back by a voice at his ear. "Ben Forest says hello, Hutchinson. He's getting out of jail. Got a new trial next month. Too bad you won't be able to make it to testify."

Hutch clenched his teeth and spoke, but it was only a strained whisper. "It's not gonna work…"

"Oh yeah? You just got enough horse to put down a football team. It's pure grade junk. Nighty night cop."

Hutch sank down towards something that felt like death, and yet he still fought it.

Starsky's phone rang as he was washing the dishes. He wasn't nearly done with the mammoth task, which he almost always forgot or put off. Hutch had suggested Starsky use paper plates, but he couldn't seem to remember to do that either.

"Okay, okay…" he called out as he dried his hands and made his way to the wall phone in the kitchen. "Starsky here."

One slurred word was all he needed to know that something was wrong. "Ssstarsk." Something was very wrong. Wrong with Hutch.

"Hutch…Hutch what is it? Are you okay?" There was just a groan from the other end of the line and Starsky's heart lurched. "Ok, hang on…just hang on, I'm on the way."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Starsky didn't stop to knock—he kicked the door open and entered, weapon drawn, every sense preternaturally alert. There were no sounds from within and no lights were on that he could see. Signs of a struggle were apparent in the living room; the furniture was in disarray and there were some dark stains on the carpet. He immediately began clearing the apartment, area by area. The last was Hutch's bedroom. He saw a shadowed form on the floor as he flipped on the light. "Hutch—" Immediately, he holstered his weapon and went to his knees, turning Hutch over gently. His face was sticky with blood. The phone cord was twisted around his hand, the receiver and base lying on the floor beside him.

Everything slowed to a nightmare crawl. Starsky's eyes took in everything at once. A junkie's kit lay on the bedside table, the bed was made, yet disturbed and streaked with blood. Moments felt both like years and miliseconds.

"Hutch..." He pleaded, checking for a pulse. It was there, but it was slow and faint. He checked Hutch's eyes and his heart fell again. The pupils were miniscule. An overdose? A brain injury? He'd seen both before and knew the signs. Starsky looked around the room in desperation. "Hutch…hold on. Help's on the way, buddy." He'd called from the radio in the Torino and told them to send help…send everyone. He had been so focused on his driving as he wove in and out of traffic, that he couldn't even remember who had answered his call, only that they were on the way.

He checked the Hutch's eyes again and this time, noticed where the blood was coming from. His scalp was split and bleeding in several places and there were ugly abrasions and bruises on his swollen face.

"Damn. What the hell happened, Hutch?" He took another pulse just to be sure, and it was still thready. While holding Hutch's wrist to find his heartbeat, he saw bruised knuckles and more blood. It was bewildering. Hutch had been just fine. In fact, he had bounced back from those terrible few days after their last cases, and he'd thought his partner was going to be alright. Who would have attacked Hutch? Surely he was not…not using heroin? But the evidence was right there on the nightstand. Could it have been that the depression Hutch was struggling with had driven him to this? Had he, Starsky, been wrong when he thought Hutch seemed to be getting better? "Goddamn it." He whispered, tears glazing his vision. He forced himself to his feet, went to the bathroom for a clean towel and came back to put pressure on the worst of the head wounds. They always bled like hell.

Hutch moaned, and then began to thrash. Starsky, knowing that overdoses frequently caused seizures, gently restrained him so he wouldn't hurt himself any further. "Come on, come on, Hutch…Stay with me," he whispered. When he heard the sound of the ambulance, it seemed as if hours had passed that he had sat there…waiting and praying—begging-God to save his best friend.

Once the paramedics had arrived, the process of loading Hutch onto a gurney and into an ambulance was swift. He told them all he knew, then followed his friend out, refusing to leave his side. As they carried Hutch down the stairs, Starsky saw Dobey and uniforms just entering.

"Starsky! What the hell is goin' on?" Dobey asked.

Starsky leaned in and pulled Dobey in close. "I'm not sure, Captain. There's evidence of a pretty violent altercation. Hutch is hurt bad. There's heroin in there." He caught Dobey's look of surprise. "I don't know what's going on with that. Keep that part quiet, if you can for now. At least until we know what's going on." He let Dobey go and crawled into the ambulance near Hutch.

Dobey nodded, not asking questions for once, and Starsky held his gaze through the back windows of the ambulance as it pulled off.

* * *

"He's gotta get some rest." Dobey muttered worriedly to Huggy as he watched Starsky in the intensive care unit. Starsky was resting with his head on the bed next to Hutch's shoulder; he'd fallen asleep in the chair, exhausted, after 24 hours of holding a steady vigil.

They'd tried to get him to leave, but the orderly who dared put his hands on Starsky to pull him out was quickly tossed to the ground. He hadn't been hurt badly, but none of the other staff had had the balls to tell Starsky to leave after that. It made Dobey smile ruefully. That was just like one of his men.

"They ain't gonna get him outta here." Huggy replied, a sad smile touching his own features. "He gonna be here for the duration, man. What they sayin' about Hutch?"

Dobey took a deep breath, sighed in frustration and sat down in a nearby chair. Huggy reluctantly left the viewing window and came to sit nearby. "The doctor says there's a lot of problems. First was getting him back from the…overdose." Dobey had lowered his voice. "They think they lost him once in the ambulance. His breathing just stopped. That's not the worst problem, though. He was hit a couple of times with something hard. Doctor says it was a blunt force object…something like that. It's a serious head injury."

"Damn." Huggy shook his head.

"Yeah. He has some brain swelling and that part's the worst. They induced a coma to reduce some of the swelling and prevent…prevent any brain damage." Dobey faltered and couldn't go on. Huggy studied his shoes until Dobey got himself back together enough to continue.

"Look, tell Starsky I'll be back. I've got to check in at the precinct. See if there's any news about this case." The hustler understood how the Captain felt. This was not Dobey's scene at all. You couldn't blame him, though. Huggy knew policemen lost their share of officers over the years and he bet it sure didn't get any easier over a long career like Dobey's.

"Yeah. Will do." Huggy said. He watched Dobey shake his head helplessly as he walked to the elevator. When he was gone, Huggy turned his eyes back to his two friends. Hutch was not on a ventilator, but they had him hooked up to a lot of monitors, IV's and even oxygen. Damn, it was hard to see a friend in this shape.

Slowly, he made his way into the room. A nurse passing by glared at him, but he just gave her a big smile, knowing they'd probably said "hands off" if it had anything to do with the dark haired one standing guard over one very battered Ken Hutchinson.

"Starsky. Hey, man." Huggy placed a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder. The detective looked up, eyes bloodshot and watery. He'd been asleep, but only lightly.

"Hug." He tried to smile as he stood up, but it died in his eyes. Before Huggy knew what was happening, Starsky was hugging him like a drowning man would hug a life preserver. He returned it for long moments and then stepped back a little.

"Hey, I'm real sorry. This shit…it's heavy, man." He glanced down at Hutch and saw his swollen face, the violence written there in black and blue. As he examined the bandages on the detective's head, he realized that they'd cut his blond hair almost to the scalp to care for the head wound. For some reason it was the worst thing about this whole situation. It made Hutch look fragile, and that was not a word that Huggy was used to associating with his friend.

"How did you hear about Hutch?" There was a sudden tension in Starsky's manner. He wiped his hands across his face and seemed to pull himself together some.

"Dobey, outside. He called me earlier today and filled me in. I…uh…I had thought all that bad stuff was behind our man Hutch."

Starsky relaxed a little. If Dobey was the one that had told Huggy what was going on, then maybe the full story hadn't gotten out. "That's the thing, Huggy. It doesn't make sense. It's been two years since…you know…Why would he go back to that poison?" He sat down and placed his head in his hands.

Huggy took the chair next to Starsky as he continued talking. "Hutch, you know…he's been kinda down lately, but he was snapping out of it. I've been sticking to him like white on rice, and he's not been doing that shit. I would know."

"But he wouldn't be the first to get back on it and almost die from misjudging what he could handle," Huggy offered.

"So, explain this." Starsky pointed at his partner's face. "So he knocked himself in the head like this and then OD's?" Huggy shook his head and Starsky apologized, knowing his tone had been too angry. "I'm sorry, Hug. I'm just…"

"No problem. It coulda been a fight with someone. Maybe he made it home afterwards, but...I don't know. Guess we just gonna have to see what he says when he wakes up from this nap."

Starsky nodded, but looked morose. Neither of them said what they were thinking. What IF Hutch didn't wake up…or was unable to communicate with them? The doctors had warned that brain damage was a possibility. It made Starsky feel sick just to think about it.

"If something happens to him…if he doesn't recover…I don't know if I'd be able to handle it, Hug." Starsky's blue eyes were searching his partner's face as if he could read the future written there.

Huggy told him what they both needed to hear…even though he knew there was the possibility it could turn out not to be true. "He's gonna be fine. He's strong, Starsky. A fighter. And we gonna be here for him. Whatever you need, you just let me know. Speakin' of that, you need me to go down and get you something to eat?"

Starsky nodded gratefully. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. Yesterday, maybe? Before all this started. "Thanks. I haven't left…I don't want him to be alone." He said.

Huggy nodded. "I know what you like—I'll be back before you know it." As he stood up, he put his hand on Starsky's shoulder. "It's gonna be okay, Starsky. Take it from me."

"Hope you're right."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note: Thanks to everyone for comments. Comments are my life's blood. Hope this chapter does not disappoint. Looks like there will be about 10-12 chapters before this story's done (and I just finished writing Chapter 9). More soon! ;)**

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Chapter 6

Starsky tried to calm down as he went back into the room with Hutch, but his rage threatened to set everything on fire. "Hey, buddy." He murmured, tempering his voice as he reached up to resettle his friend's pillows.

Huggy and Captain Dobey had shown up to give him the rundown on the results of the investigation for the past two days, and it had only served to make Starsky itch for revenge. If Hutch were awake, he would tell Starsky to calm down and keep his wits about him. He would need them, going in to this into this investigation without backup. Dobey had insisted he take someone with him, but he'd simply walked away. There was no backup like Hutch. He knew it was stupid, but accepting another partner, even if only temporarily, felt like a betrayal. Like an acceptance that he had lost Hutch permanently.

Thankfully, Huggy had already put his contacts to work investigating the drugs found in Hutch's apartment. He'd found that the heroin was sold by some dealer downtown—and it was somewhat exclusive. He'd used the stamp on the small glassine bag, an image of an orange, to track it. The junkies called it "Tang" and it was considered particularly pure. It was also new, which meant it would take a little more digging to discover a few names of the dealers who sold the stuff. Huggy had only found one name for him so far: Leon. He was a dealer that hung out at a dive called "the Grotto." If Hutch did buy the stuff, and if the fight he'd had was with the dealer, there would be evidence on the man's face. Those bruises and cuts weren't on Hutch's knuckles for nothing; Starsky was sure he'd given out as good as he'd gotten.

He studied his friend's sleeping face and took a deep breath. "Hutch…I don't know if you can hear me or not," Starsky began, "but I'm gonna believe that you can. I need to check out a lead on what happened to you." He reached out and smoothed Hutch's blanket absently. "The doctors are saying that you're gonna wake up soon. That's good, cause I don't plan on takin' too long to run down this lead before I get back here." He was worried, really worried about leaving his best friend, but his anger was stronger. He wasn't very good at waiting around and worrying anyway; he was better at taking action, putting together the pieces and figuring out what they all meant. He would solve this mystery of what had happened to Hutch and it felt better to finally have more of a purpose. Huggy had promised to stay with Hutch while he was gone.

On a sudden impulse, Starsky reached up and tugged off the two Chinese coins that he'd taken to wearing around his neck. He'd gotten them on one of their cases; a grateful mugging victim had given them to him for "good luck" and he'd worn them ever since the elderly lady had pressed them into his hand. He looped them over the rail of Hutch's bed and made sure they hung down where his partner would be able to see them if he woke up. He couldn't help but feel the echo of another time when he'd had to leave a message that only the two of them would understand: when Hutch had been sick and the time for the cure had been running out. This was time running out, but in a different way. If he didn't act on Huggy's information now, he knew that it might be too late.

"I'll be back as soon as I can." He murmured. Unselfconsciously, he took Hutch's hand in his and squeezed it tightly within his own palms before leaving.

Starsky gave Huggy a meaningful look as he stepped outside the room and onto the elevator. His friend nodded, understandingly. "Good luck, man."

* * *

_This looks like the sort of place that serial murderers hang out._ Starsky found that he could imagine Hutch's voice as if his partner were beside him. _Keep your eyes peeled, buddy._ _This looks like the kind of place where they kill first and don't ask questions if you know what I mean._

As he entered the bar, which was nothing but a dive, Starsky was comforted by the feel of his Colt 1911 against his side, under his jacket in case things went badly. No one really looked up, except the bartender, who disinterestedly watched Starsky make his way over to a seat at the end of the bar.

"What'll ya have?" The man made his way over after he'd refilled a patron's shot glass of whiskey.

"Same thing. Make it a double." Starsky waited until the bartender came back over and then he motioned the man close. "I'm lookin' for somebody. A guy named Leon. I wanna transact some business." Starsky knew his scruffy, care-worn appearance and bloodshot eyes would help him blend right in. He caught his reflection in the bar mirror and realized a few more days without shaving and he'd have a substantial beard.

"If you got some business with him, then you should know him already." The man returned as he set a double whiskey on the bar.

Starsky downed it and then set fifty dollars down between them. He didn't have time to play this game. _Good one. Money does talk, Starsk, _Hutch's voice clearly approved. "You can keep the change if you can point me in the right direction."

The bartender put his hand out for the money, but Starsky held onto it as he eyeballed the greasy man. "Leon." He said simply.

The man wavered, then the lure of the cash was too much for him. "Back by the pool table over there. Long hair, leather jacket. Don't say I sent you…it could hurt my business."

Starsky simply nodded, let the fifty go, and the bartender went to attend to other customers. He watched Leon nursing a beer in a back booth. From his vantage point, Starsky was able to observe a transaction between Leon and a thin blond woman. _Looks like a repeat customer. _ As usual, Hutch was correct. When the girl turned, Starsky saw the ravages of heroin in her thin face, bad skin and trembling that was apparent as she tucked the small package into the front of her hiphuggers.

Starsky decided it was time. He summoned all his rage and anger as he walked over to shake down this criminal. "How's business, Leon?" He slid into the booth in front of the greasy looking drug dealer and put out a hand to grab Leon's arm as he started to get out of the booth. "If you're smart, you're not gonna blow me off." He raised an eyebrow as he examined the punk, who wisely sat back down. He wasn't much to look at, only about eighteen or nineteen years old. He wasn't beat up either, so this wasn't the guy who tangled with Hutch. It was disappointing, but not surprising. _Yeah, things aren't ever so easy, Starsk._

"What do you want?" Leon glared.

"This guy." He held out Hutch's driver's license so that the man could see the picture, but not the name. He'd snagged the license from Hutch's personal belongings at the hospital. "Has he been one of your customers lately?"

Leon barely glanced and then shook his head. "Nah. Never seen him."

Starsky reached out with swift fury, grabbed the lapel of Leon's jacket and shook him hard. "Look again." He said through gritted teeth as he held up the picture.

"No. No! I ain't never seen him." Leon shook his head. "Whatcha want from me? I'm not the missing person's bureau."

Starsky threw Leon back against the booth. _Careful, Starsk. _He ignored the voice. "You're gonna tell me who your supplier is." Starsky didn't care if he had to follow the chain all the way up; he was going to get to the bottom of this.

Leon shook his head, playing dumb. "Supplier? I don't know what you're talking about."

Starsky took out the Colt and laid it on the table. Then he took a deep breath as if trying to gather his patience. "I think you do know, Leon." His voice was now calm, deadly calm, and Leon picked up on it as he gazed into the dark blue eyes. _Uh, buddy? Think you might be goin' a bit too far there? _He ignored that voice too.

"Look I don't need no trouble…" Leon began.

"There won't be any if you cooperate." Starsky considered pulling his badge, but quickly dismissed it. He could go further this way. "But if you don't cooperate…or you give me some false info…" He placed his hand on the gun, but held Leon's gaze meaningfully.

Leon immediately cracked. _Not a bad bluff, partner, _Hutch remarked. _I almost believed you myself. _Starsky wondered for a moment if the stress of this was getting to him. It was as if Hutch had taken up residence in his head. He supposed there were worse things that could happen. He focused back on the situation at hand and realized Leon was still staring at the gun. Time to get this bird singing, he thought.

He tapped the gun and Leon began sputtering. "Look. All I know is that there's some big supplier on the west side. I get my stuff from a guy named Tucker. Austin Tucker. He runs a shipping business… 'B. F. Shipping Lines' it's called." Leon wiped a hand across his sweating brow.

"Are you the only one pushing this Tang shit?" Starsky picked up his gun and appeared to admire it. Then he cocked the hammer; not pointing it directly at Leon, but making a point nonetheless. "Be truthful, Leon." He let his gaze do the rest of the intimidating.

"Yeah, yeah. Right now. Tucker was shut down for a while, but…I don't know, he's gettin' the business back up and running again with a new product. Jesus Christ, you're gonna get me killed, dude."

Starsky uncocked the gun and slipped it back into the shoulder holster. "Yeah, I'd change your line of work if I were you, Leon. In fact, I might clear out altogether. It'll be better for your health." He leaned in to the dealer before leaving. "In fact, if I find you pushing drugs anywhere in Bay City again, you're done. Permanently. Bon voyage." The look in Leon's eyes as he watched Starsky leave showed that he believed the threat.

* * *

**If you liked this, please let me know! :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note: Please comment on this. If you're reading it, and you like it, it's the least you can do! LOL! Seriously, I hope you enjoy the story. Thanks for all the great comments so far. **

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Chapter Seven

"How did it go?" Huggy was sitting by Hutch's bedside, playing solitaire on the rolling table. The TV was showing a muted and silent Gene Rayburn question the stars on "Match Game."

Starsky shrugged. "No hard evidence. Just shakin' up that guy Leon over at that bar you mentioned. It was a pretty seedy place."

"I told ya. Even I wouldn't go in there with you **and** Hutch at my back." Huggy said, throwing down the cards. "This game is a bust."

"Hey, you know anything about a B. F. Shipping Lines? On the west side?"

"Nope. I can check around though."

"Yeah. Just do it on the q.t. Let me know if you hear anything." He focused on Hutch as he sat down on the other side of the bed. "Any change?"

"No. Doctor came in around three and checked. He said we wouldn't have too much longer to wait before sleeping beauty should wake up."

Starsky nodded and settled back in the hospital chair for more waiting. He'd had lots of practice in hospitals since becoming a cop, but it never got easy. "Thanks, Hug. You staying or heading out?"

"Gotta head out, unfortunately.I will make sure to call you later to check on the blond one. I got a bartender out with a sick kid." Huggy explained as he shrugged his jacket on. "I got a new girl, Trina, working tonight but I wanna make sure I'm there to help her out. She's new to the job, you know. But I think she's got what it takes." He stood beside Starsky, his hand on the door. "You got what it takes too, to get through this, Starsky. You'll see." Huggy briefly squeezed his shoulder and then exited.

"I hope so." He pulled another chair up so that he sat beside Hutch, feet propped in the extra chair. It was easy to lay his hand on Hutch's arm while they both slept. Maybe somehow, Hutch would know he was there. And hopefully, he would know immediately if Hutch moved or woke up. He could barely stifle a yawn, and he rested his head against the back of the chair, eyes slipping closed. There had been too many sleepless hours lately and without even trying, Starsky drifted off.

* * *

All of a sudden, Starsky was instantly awake. He didn't move at first-his eyes just scanned the room. Machines beeped regularly and all the nurses went wherever it was nurses go when nothing was going on. In the twilight of the hospital's dim lights, Starsky felt alone. But he was wrong.

He looked around and became aware that Hutch was conscious. Starsky was unable to speak; he was so overwhelmed with joy, worry, excitement, and everything else on the spectrum of emotion that he felt almost paralyzed. He watched silently as Hutch reached out to the two coins on Starsky's leather necklace and then finally enclosed them in his palm. His best friend's confused blue eyes studied the coins,and then he wrapped his fingers around them and sighed almost contentedly as his eyes closed.

"No, Hutch…stay awake." Starsky leaned in, hoping Hutch had finally come back to him and not fallen back into the black hole of unconsciousness. A sleepy pair of blue eyes opened and met Starsky's own. He looked tired and in pain, but it was still the most beautiful sight Starsky thought he'd ever seen.

"Hutch…" It was all he could manage as he grabbed his friend's hand and squeezed it tight. Tears hung in his eyes, and he tried to blink them back. "Hey, buddy."

Hutch stared at Starsky a long time before he spoke. "Sta-rrsk?" His voice was hoarse.

Starsky realized he'd been holding his breath. He let it out in a whoosh. Thank god Hutch was talking; it was a good sign. He'd been so scared. "Yeah…it's me. Dumb question, but how do you feel?"

"Like I was …uh…hit by a …train." Hutch's sense of humor was still there, but Starsky, who was listening to every syllable, picked up on the little hesitations in his friend's voice. It was as if searching for the right word was a monumental effort. "Your…coins." He looked at them in his hand and Starsky saw Hutch's eyes were shiny with tears. He was struggling not to let them fall, but one tracked its way down his cheek anyway. He wiped at it clumsily and met Starsky's own tear glazed gaze.

"What? I thought you could use a little luck, you big dumb Lummox."

"Head hurts…" Hutch groaned trying to shift in the bed. "Ouch…Ev..Everything hurts."

Starsky laid a hand on Hutch's arm. "Just stay still. I'll get the nurse, ok. Don't…don't move." Starsky headed for the door quickly. It worried him that Hutch was in pain, but he still couldn't help feeling like shouting down the hallway and jumping for joy at the same time.

* * *

Sleep eluded Starsky, so he simply set himself to watching over Hutch while he rested. His friend was exhausted after a busy day of tests and scans by the doctors who were taking such good care of him. He'd caught a few cat naps here and there while Hutch was gone, but he was too excited to sleep. He wondered how he could be both happy and terribly worried at the same time. The two emotions felt like opposite poles of a magnet, but he felt them both keenly.

The doctors had given him a run down on the symptoms of Hutch's head injury. He had received several blows to the head by a heavy object as well as being punched repeatedly by his attacker, which had caused the brain swelling. His neurologist said it was a mild to moderate head injury, not as severe as they had first thought—it had been complicated by the overdose. Once they'd gotten Hutch in the ambulance, he'd stopped breathing. The doctors explained that his body just forgot to breathe due to the drug's effect on his brain. Starsky had watched helplessly as they'd administered Naloxone and got Hutch's respiration going again.

They'd said Hutch would suffer some dizziness, headaches, confusion and tiredness for a while, and there might be some muscle weakness. His doctor had told Starsky that they held a lot of hope for a complete recovery; Hutch was young and in excellent shape. Unless…and the doc had carefully broached this subject…he went back to using again. They said nothing would be more detrimental to his health than that.

Starsky had been forced to explain the situation, or at least some of it, to Hutch's doctor. He recounted what Hutch had gone through at the hands of Forest's goon squad, a story he hadn't ever wanted to tell again. He admitted he wasn't sure if Hutch was using drugs again or not, but he felt like there was something else behind this. He couldn't put his finger on it yet, but he was working on it.

Later, when Hutch had asked questions, Starsky had explained some of the details to him but left the specifics about the drugs out of it. They were certainly going to have to have a talk. However, he'd shied away from the subject for now, not wanting to upset Hutch during the first few exhausting days of recovery. Hutch hadn't been much for talking anyway; he'd slept a lot of the time, often with Starsky's coins clutched in his hand. There was time for talking later, when his partner was feeling better. He had to admit, it wasn't a discussion he was looking forward to. Was he afraid of the answers? Maybe. If he found out that Hutch did go back to heroin, out of depression or despair or whatever, Starsky was already determined he would get Hutch help faster than he could say the word "go." Even if he had to cuff him to get him there.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's note: Thank you for the wonderful comments. Please keep them coming. I can't tell you how much they mean to me and inspire me. You, constant reader, you rock!**

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Chapter Eight

The next day Hutch was released from the hospital. Starsky drove them to Hutch's place so that they could pick up what he'd need for a few days at his friend's house. However, there were a lot of steps to negotiate. Starsky hadn't missed that Hutch was still somewhat unsteady on his feet so he had insisted on his friend waiting in the car.

The dizziness wasn't too bad, but Hutch still felt the sensation of being mired in sand. His thoughts felt slow and confused and it was hard not to get frustrated, even though Starsky continually assured him that things would get back to normal. He felt so sleepy all the time. Sighing, he glanced at his hair in the side mirror. It was shorter than a marine's, he realized glumly. He was thankful that Starsky had loaned him his black knitted cap, not only to keep his head warm, but it hid the stitches as well. It was the fall and the weather was cooler, so he supposed he didn't stick out too much. Seeing the short hair had made him feel even worse, especially the first time he'd seen it in the mirror.

The hair was far from the worst part of it. The headaches were pretty bad. But the thing that bothered him the most was that he remembered almost nothing about what had happened. He'd told Starsky as much when his friend had tried to question him about being attacked. The doctor had told him that was normal, and that the memory might or might not return. He scowled; it was weird having a part of your memory just vanish. It felt like having something stolen. Like a set of missing keys that you could never find.

He looked up at his apartment window again, wondering what could have happened up there. All he remembered was picking up Pad Thai at the restaurant...and then a big nothing until waking up to see Starsky's coins. It had been then that he knew everything would be okay. He didn't know what had happened or why he was surrounded with beeping machines in the hospital, but those coins let him know that Starsky was there. Then when he'd seen his friend's face…he'd known it was serious. But he still hadn't been worried. Because Starsky was there.

He happened to see Starsky's shadow cross the lighted window, and it made him smile. Suddenly he realized there might be something he could do to jog his memory…

* * *

Starsky had finished packing Hutch's bag when he suddenly found himself reliving the painful memory of almost losing his best friend. He'd tried to avert his eyes from the area on the floor where he'd found Hutch and it had worked for a while as he packed a toothbrush, shirts, jeans and everything else he thought his friend would need. Then, coming back into the bedroom area from the bathroom, he saw the phone lying on the floor and the blood. He felt tackled by the memory, which took him down heavily and knocked the wind out of him.

The fear…it was something they'd never talked about, but it was always there. Every time a gunshot rang out, every time they entered an abandoned building or broke down a door, the fear would always place its frozen fingers around his heart. The fear wasn't for himself, though. Losing Hutch would be worse than dying, therefore he had determined a long time ago that he just wouldn't let that happen. Then this…this had been his worst fear almost come true, and the fresh memory made his soul twist painfully. He sat on the bed for a moment and hung his head, overcome with the anxiety and stress of the past few days.

"It was pretty …bad, huh?" Hutch knew what he was thinking, like he always did. His partner glanced around, looking at the blood stained bed and floor. After a moment, he made his way to the bed, taking slow steps. He eased himself down on the bed slowly, feeling every ache in his body. The soft sound of pain he made didn't escape Starsky's notice.

"You shouldn't be up here." Starsky frowned. The doctor had warned that there would be some balance issues for a while, and he could just imagine Hutch taking a tumble down the stairs.

"No…I **should** be up here. Maybe I'll remember something…It's ok. " Hutch looked around and saw the phone lying on the floor. He could see his bloody hand clutching it, but…why? What had been going on? The few memories came back in strobe-like flashes, but they were no help. When they slowed, he gathered himself and looked sidelong at his friend. Starsky's eyes were bloodshot, and his scruffy beard and pale face articulated what he'd gone through better than any words. "Hey, …um…how are you doing?" Starsky shrugged at the question and Hutch went on. "You're looking pretty bad, Starsk. I mean not as bad as me, but…"

Starsky smiled one of his little smiles: to Hutch it was like sunshine after a long rain. "Well, if you'd found your friend hurt like you were, had to eat hospital food for four days and had to sleep sittin' up…"

"Yeah, yeah. You've had it…really bad. It's me that's got the scr…scrambled brain…" Hutch let out a little laugh and it lifted Starsky's heart.

Without talking, the two of them sat there a moment. Then Hutch reached over and grabbed Starsky's hand, as if holding onto a lifeline. Wordlessly, he told Starsky how grateful he was for everything. The brunet squeezed his hand back, and after long moments, reluctantly let go when their silent conversation was over. It was time for words now.

"Hutch." Starsky looked over at his friend. He searched Hutch's bruised, battered face, the stitches that were not hidden by the dark knit hat, the cut on the corner of his bottom lip. He did not know how to begin. Hutch had been through so much that questioning his friend's actions was difficult. Talking about anything associated with the time Hutch had spent suffering at the hands of Forest's goons was going to bring back painful memories for both of them.

"G…go ahead, Starsk." Hutch waited patiently.

He took a deep steadying breath before the words started coming. "Hutch…I didn't wanna tell you this in the hospital, but you almost died. Not from the beating…even though that was bad enough…God knows it was bad enough, but you overdosed." He found that his eyes seemed glued to the floor. With a terrible effort, he tore them free and focused on Hutch's face. "It was heroin. Hutch—"

The revelation of the information made Hutch feel like he'd been punched in the stomach. He couldn't breathe, much less find anything to say.

"They said you had enough heroin in your system to kill two or three people." Starsky's voice became softer. "Did you…?" He trailed off, unable to finish the question. "Uh, you know, you had been upset…about those cases…" Hutch was still grasping for words to reply, but Starsky's ragged whisper filled the void. "I'm so sorry. I should have done a better job looking after you. I was trying to, but I thought…I thought everything was going to be okay. I must have missed something…" Starsky's words came faster and faster until Hutch cut him off with a gentle word.

"Starsk." He spoke quietly-saying everything too loudly made it too real. He shook his head slightly and closed his hand around Starsky's again to silently say it wasn't his fault. "I don't…know. I…don't think I did…but it's a bl...ank." He looked down at his free hand and all of a sudden saw the blood that had stained it that day. "I can s..see my hands…and the bl…blood. I remember…calling you. That's all." His head began to ache with the effort of trying to remember the blank spots. Starsky's words had revived the memory of the previous hell he'd been through at the orders of Ben Forest and he felt his composure tremble. "I know I'd rather die… than go back to that…that….horrible place you rescued me from." He met Starsky's gaze with eyes that were shiny with unshed tears.

Before either of them took a breath, Starsky enfolded Hutch in his arms "I know. I know, Hutch," he whispered. Hutch held on like a drowning man, seeking the comfort that his friend provided so selflessly.

They held the embrace for long moments while Starsky continued. "We'll find out. If…if you did, it's okay. It doesn't matter. I've got you and you're gonna be fine." Reluctantly, he let Hutch go and looked into his pain-filled eyes. This had been a lot for him to take in, and Starsky silently cursed himself for putting so much on Hutch at one time.

"You need that prescription Huggy's getting filled. I should have taken you home first."

"Yeah, I think that climbing those steps might have been a lot harder than I thought." Hutch seemed to ache from head to toe, now that the hospital's medication had begun to wear off. He gratefully allowed Starsky to help him to his feet and together they slowly made their way downstairs to the Torino.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's note: The tough thing about getting such great reviews is the fear that the next chapter won't live up to the previous. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint! Thank you for all the reviews!**

* * *

Chapter 9

Starsky woke up on the couch suddenly, knowing someone was in the room with him. He'd fallen asleep while watching the late movie, so he opened his eyes to the TV's white noise and snow. In the faint frosty-looking light, he could just make out Hutch standing over the couch silently. He had laid a hand on Starsky's shoulder.

"Starsk." Hutch spoke only that one word, but to Starsky, he said everything with it.

Starsky sat up quickly, instantly awake. This would be about the third bad dream in the past two days since Hutch had gotten out of the hospital. The first one had been a screaming horror. Hutch had been covered in cold sweat and had had no idea where he was. Starsky had found him crouching in the corner, eyes dark with fear and body uncontrollably shaking. Hutch had barely been able to speak after that nightmare, and Starsky hadn't pushed it. He'd attributed it to some of the heavy medication from the hospital wearing off. Now Hutch slept in fits and starts, as if afraid of what would happen when he fell asleep. Starsky hadn't mentioned it, but he wondered if Hutch's visit to his apartment and their conversation had caused the horrible dreams. "Another nightmare?"

Hutch nodded like a silent ghost in the darkness, and it tore at Starsky's heart.

"Come on; sit down." Starsky stood up and guided him to one corner of the sofa. "Wanna talk about it?"

Hutch shook his head no. He couldn't replay the images in his mind enough to make any sense of them anyway. He'd awoken terrified, expecting to see himself covered in blood and the faceless attacker closing in. The only thing that would help was Starsky's comforting presence.

"Okay." Starsky squeezed Hutch's shoulder for a moment as he walked by to flip on the lamp. The warm light made it feel much better than sitting in the dark. He then walked into the kitchen as he called casually over his shoulder. "Want some milk? I picked up some of that goat's milk slop just for you yesterday."

Hutch slowly warmed up as the menace of dream began to fade. With a tentative smile, he began to respond in the customary way. "Wow. Now I know I'm really sick if you would do…t-that for me. Tell me, …Starsk, is my disease…t-terminal?" Starsky still noticed the aphasic quality of Hutch's speech, even though he could sense improvement since the hospital. The worst times for finding the right word were when Hutch was frustrated, but when they joked around with each other, the problems with Hutch's speech seemed to improve.

"Ha. Ha. Don't go gettin' used to this star treatment, Blondie." As he went into the kitchen he silently thanked God once more that he still had Hutch.-_I owe you one big time._— He glanced upward as he sent out the silent prayer of thanks.

Starsky quickly returned with a glass of milk for Hutch and a mug for himself. "You aren't serious?" Hutch said as he pointed at the mug.

"Oh no. It's good old fashioned cow's milk for me. With chocolate syrup." Starsky smiled proudly.

"It's good to know s-some things never change." Hutch found himself smiling back. He was looking down into his cup when words slammed back into his memory like a hammer. _Ben Forest says hello._

He must have flinched because Starsky noticed it. "Is it your head?" Starsky rose to locate Hutch's medicine when his friend haltingly responded.

"No. I… g-give me j-just a second…" Hutch leaned forward and set his glass on a nearby table with a shaky hand. _Ben Forest says hello. Too bad, cop._ He tried to let his mind go with the words, the sound of the voice. "Trying to…um…remember…" He closed his eyes in order to concentrate better.

Starsky placed a gentle hand on the back of Hutch's neck, expecting to ruffle the long hair that was not there anymore. It made him sad, but once again, he felt overwhelmingly thankful he still had Hutch. "You okay?" He finally murmured, after long moments of silence.

"It's him. Forest. I think…?" Hutch's face creased in concentration. "It's hard to r-remember…but I hear a v-voice."

"Forest's voice?" Starsky was a bit bewildered. "He's in jail, Hutch."

"No. It's—" Hutch followed the invisible thread of memory back into his tangled thoughts. …E_nough horse to put down a football team…Too bad, cop…Ben Forest says hello._

"'Too bad ..y…you won't be around to testify.'" He found himself speaking the words along with the voice in his mind. "Ben Forest." He looked into Starsky's eyes with a now-clear gaze. "The guy…he s-said I wouldn't be around to…to t-testify against…Ben Forest."

Starsky held his feelings of anger in check-mentioning Forest always made him feel like punching something. "That trial is over. For a couple of years now, Hutch." He knew it didn't ring true as soon as he said it.

"What if he got a new…trial? Who…w-would he w-want out... of the way?" Hutch asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Damn, I hate it when you're right." Starsky cursed, reaching out to grab the phone and call Dobey. Then he checked himself, realizing that it was 3 o'clock in the morning. Dobey had to wait.

"We're checking on that creep Forest as soon as I can reach Dobey or someone at the DA's office." He cursed again, his thoughts going back over the puzzle pieces. They were starting to fit together and he didn't like the picture he was seeing.

"Ok. Let's think about this a second," Starsky went on. "While you were sleepin' off what that criminal did to you, I did a little checking." Hutch raised an eyebrow again, surprised. He hadn't known that Starsky was already looking into what had happened, and it made him feel proud and a little unworthy of such dedication. "The heroin they found in your place was a new type. The junkies are calling it 'Tang.' A guy named Leon was pushing it, but uh…he's probably out of business now if he knows what's good for him."

"Oh, d-did you pay h-him a visit?" Hutch asked, but he already knew from the look on Starsky's face.

"Well, you might say I gave him an invitation to leave town. Anyway, the line from Leon was that some guy named Tucker at a shipping company is supplying dealers on the side-getting back into the business..." Starsky's face fell as he trailed off.

"What?" Hutch leaned forward, wondering what Starsky had realized.

"B. F. Shipping." He groaned and hung his head. "B. F. –Ben Forest. Under my nose the whole time." Having Forest on his mind, he'd finally been able to make the connection.

"Well, then…at least we pr-probably…know who's…g-gunning…for me." Hutch sat back, thoughts whirling. He was still uncertain about whether or not he'd taken the heroin on his own, but it was looking more and more like …

"Someone tried to kill you, Hutch." Starsky echoed Hutch's thoughts at the same time. "I mean with that heroin in your place. He paid someone to get you out of the way." Starsky's narrowed his eyes. "If they let him out, Hutch...If I get my hands on him, I swear, I'm gonna kill him."

"I wouldn't mind…getting a few licks in myself." Hutch replied.

"I'll hold him down while you punch him." Starsky had almost gotten his anger under control and he managed a smile at Hutch. "We've got four hours before we can even think of contacting anyone to follow up on this. How about a monopoly game?" He knew it would help work on Hutch's ability to focus, and neither one of them would probably be sleeping again tonight anyway.

Hutch nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

"Hey—maybe you can win back some of the money you owe me." Starsky grinned teasingly.

"Is it my f-fault you cheat at Monopoly?"

"Cheat? What are you talking about, Rockefeller? You just better bring your A game, blintz." Starsky called over his shoulder as he went to get the game.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Author's note: Thanks for all the reviews so far. They are like "getting paid" for me. Thanks for reading this long. Hopefully one or two more chapters after CH 11 and this epic will be completed. This is a short chapter, but next chapter will be up momentarily as well.

* * *

There was a look of frustration on Tucker's face as he hung up the phone. He sighed heavily as he turned to glance out the window that overlooked B. F. Shipping's parking lot. Mr. Forest had sure been pissed when he found out the cop had lived through the hit man's attempt on his life.

The cops had kept most of the story quiet, however. There had been little news coverage, but Tucker had found that the word on the street was that someone had almost beaten Kenneth Hutchinson to death. No word about the heroin. Most of the rumors pointed towards a disgruntled street-level criminal with a vendetta. Of course, those rumors came from the same street-level criminals with vendettas against the blond-haired cop.

He had talked to the hit man yesterday and the killer had tried to explain his failure. He said that Hutchinson had put up a hell of a fight—and since they needed him to make it look like a drug overdose, he hadn't been able to use his normal methods (which were usually more successful). The cop had broken the hit man's nose, and almost drew down on him. He had explained that he'd finally had to pistol whip the bastard to take him down. Then he'd followed the plan as Tucker had laid it out.

After news of the failure reached him, Forest had communicated through intermediaries that now he wanted Hutchinson taken out—he didn't care how. If his partner Starsky got in the way, then orders were to eradicate him as well. His earlier, more devious plan to disgrace and kill the tall, blond-haired cop had been too complicated and now, he just wanted them out of the way for good.

All that remained was for Tucker to contact the hit man and give him the go-ahead. He looked down at the phone number in his hand and reached for the receiver.

The cop had to be dead in two days before Forest's release on bail.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The Torino's engine screamed as Starsky peeled away from the precinct. He found the freeway and wove in and out of traffic, his mouth was set in a grim line.

He realized on some level that this was a bad idea, but that was just a slight murmur in the back of his mind. His entire focus was on what he'd found out from Dobey. They'd been right; Forest **had** weaseled a retrial out of a judge somehow, and was due to be released in two days, free on bail until the next trial.

Starsky grit his teeth. Forest had obviously done this to Hutch to get him out of the way. He was sure now. Hutch's testimony had been essential in convicting the scumbag and putting him behind bars the first time. If Hutch had been killed and disgraced by dying as a result of a heroin overdose…he wouldn't be able to testify and evidence might be thrown out.

He would die before he let anything happen to Hutch. He set that certainty in the front of his mind and held onto it, along with the anger. That would keep the fear and worry away. He would need every bit of his anger to do what he was going to have to do.

* * *

It was a slow day on Cellblock C, so Ben Forest was surprised when his number was called by an officer for special visitation. Thinking it might be one of his girlfriends, Foster sauntered toward the regular visiting room, but was redirected.

"This way." He was led to a windowless room at the back of the hallway. He knew from experience that convicts often met their lawyers in here. This time, however, it was not an attorney that greeted him.

"Call my lawyer." He spat, as soon as he saw the cop inside. It was Detective Dave Starsky whose icy blue eyes met his own. Forest didn't miss the nod that passed from the cop to the guard. A set up. "I'm not goin' in there."

"Aww, come on. That ain't friendly." The guard, who was obviously a transplant to California from the Deep South, shoved Forest into the room and shut the door, locking it behind him.

That left Forest to face Dave Starsky alone. "I'm not talking to you without a lawyer present." He sneered.

"That's just fine. All you need to do is listen." Starsky could feel fury working its way up from the pit of his stomach, trying to take him over. He had tried several times to tell himself he should just go home, but he hadn't been able to listen. It made him crazy to think this bastard thought he could get away with killing Hutch. When it came to his partner, he just couldn't stand by and wait for Forest to try again. "I know you tried to have my partner killed so he couldn't testify in your next trial. But a heroin overdose? You really showed what a son-of-a-bitch you are." He had made his way over to Forest and spat the last sentence at him, shoving him against the wall.

Forest looked like a spoiled kid, caught with his hand in the cookie jar. A kid who didn't much care that he'd been called out. In an utterly bored voice he said, "Yeah, I did hear that your partner had his brains knocked around by someone. What a shame…. Oh—and the heroin. Too bad." He clucked. "Hutchinson had done such a good job throwing that monkey off his back."

When Starsky thought about it later, he hadn't known what he was going to do until he did it. His hands seemed to move of their own volition; and before he'd known it, he had punched Forest in the face. He reached out and grabbed Forest's shoulders, throwing him against the wall again and pressing one arm against Forest's throat. "Listen to me, you piece of shit. If you hurt my partner again, no matter where you are, I will find you, and I will kill you."

"Whatever." Forest rolled his eyes and stretched his hand out toward the door to knock and be allowed out. "Guard!" He called in a raspy voice, his air constricted. No one answered his knock.

There was a click of a hammer being pulled back. The detective was almost surprised to find one of his backup weapons, a Colt Detective Special, in his hand as he shoved it against the side of Forest's head.

The gun focused Forest right away. He knew that visitors, even cops, were not allowed to bring weapons into the prison. He licked his lips nervously, looking around the empty room. No security cameras, no 2-way glass, no guard in the room.

"That's right," Starsky said. "I can sneak a gun in here. If I can do that, just think of what else I can do. There are ten guards in this prison who owe me favors. This place cannot stop me from getting to you at any time. Your goons can not stop me." His voice had taken on a level of deadly calm. "No one will stop me. You better hope that my partner doesn't even get so much as a **cold**." He made his point by pressing the barrel into Forest's head harder. "Because I will come here…or wherever you are by then, you cockroach, and put all six of these slugs in your brain. I've got nothing to lose."

Forest seemed to have lost all his words in the icy fire of Starsky's eyes. Something about the cop had unnerved him from the start, and Forest had not been frightened by anyone for a long time. "Y-you're crazy." He stammered.

Starsky nodded. "Right again, Einstein." He shoved Forest away hard enough to send him to the floor, and replaced the small revolver in his waistband, under his leather jacket. "I will have no problem coming back here and ending you if you don't call off your hired goons." He looked at Forest, who had picked himself up off the floor and was now edging back as far away as he could get from Starsky. The detective turned and beat on the door with a fist. "It's me, Brian."

Immediately the guard opened the door. He and Starsky were obviously acquainted, Forest noted. "That was fast." Brian said.

"It didn't take long to reach an understanding." Starsky didn't look back at Forest, but shook Brian's hand and clapped him on the shoulder at the same time. "Thanks for the help, buddy."

"Hey I appreciate what you and your partner did for us last year when my mom was mugged. Anything you need, just let me know."

Starsky nodded, said his goodbyes and made his way back towards the hallway that would take him back to the entrance. He could hear Forest shuffling into the hallway and he called over his shoulder without turning around.

"Make that call, Forest. Sooner rather than later."

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**Author's note: If you liked this chapter, don't be afraid to pay your friendly neighborhood writer with comments! :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews. The next chapter should wind this up! Hope you enjoy.**

Chapter 12

Starsky returned home, feeling oddly relieved. The ball was in Forest's court. That didn't mean that Starsky was going to drop his guard, however. He knew that his threats might have no effect or the opposite effect when a louse like Forest was involved. It would be a wait-and-see type situation, and if it meant protecting both himself and Hutch, he could be and would be constantly on watch. The stakes were just too high to let his guard down for a second.

He entered his house to find Huggy shuffling a deck of cards on the coffee table. He could really handle the cards like a Las Vegas dealer, Starsky thought. "Hey. How did Hutch's appointment go?"

"It went pretty well." As he spoke, Hug laid out the cards in some pattern of solitaire that Starsky wasn't familiar with. "They said he was already improving in a lot of ways. The physical therapist said that he'd already come so far, just in the last few days, that he wouldn't even have to come after the first week or two. The speech therapist said it might take a little longer, but she's cute so I don't think our Hutchie will mind." He let out a little laugh. "She looked a little sweet on him too."

The report made Starsky smile. "That lady killer. He gets all the girls, even when he's all busted up. Where is he?" He glanced around, wanting to tease Hutch a bit.

"Oh, he went back to take a nap. They kind of tired him out after all that. What did the Captain say?" Huggy had taken Hutch to the therapy appointment so that Starsky could meet with Dobey.

"Ben Forest, Hug. They're giving him a new trial." Starsky's manner hardened when he mentioned Forest. "He tried to have Hutch killed so he couldn't testify. The heroin was just to ruin his reputation and throw doubt on his testimony from the first trial. That son-of-a-bitch."

"Damn." Huggy sat back and shook his head. "So you think they're still after Hutch?"

"I visited Forest at the prison. I strongly suggested that he call off his men." Starsky lifted his tired eyes to meet Huggy's gaze. "I don't know, Hug. I don't know what he'll do, but we gotta protect Hutch."

"You bet." Huggy said. "Whatever you need—"

There was a noise, not a shout, but not a scream either. Then they heard a large thump from the bedroom. They both stood up at once, and were at the door in moments. Starsky wasn't aware of pulling his backup gun, but he found it in his hand as if by magic. He threw open the door to see Hutch curled into the corner, his eyes squeezed closed. One of the sheets was still tangled around his leg. Starsky's eyes darted around the room, then he put away his weapon as he spoke to Huggy over his shoulder. "He's been having nightmares—

"Hutch…It's ok." Starsky approached him carefully, as one would do a frightened animal. "It's me, Hutch." He reached out and touched Hutch's arm gently.

Hutch's eyes flew open and darted around the room. He tried to talk. "H-h-he…I-I…kn-know…S-st…St…" He tried for several more moments to speak, but couldn't seem to. He let out a growl of frustration and turned his head away from them to the wall.

He looked so distraught that Starsky reached out and gathered his friend into his arms as he had so often done before. He could feel Hutch's wild heartbeat, and it only made him more aware how much his friend needed him.

Huggy saw the gleam of tears trace their way down Hutch's bruised cheek before he buried his face into Starsky's shoulder. It was hard not to do something to help, but saying something or moving forward felt like intruding on them. Their friendship was something that not many people understood the depth of, except maybe himself or Dobey.

Slowly, Hutch began to come around under Starsky's soft, comforting whispers. Starsky let him go after a time and leaned back to meet his friend's gaze. "Hey." Starsky said softly, giving him a smile. "Just go slow, ok? We're listening."

"I…saw it." The dream seemed to have loosened its stranglehold on him and the words seemed to come a little easier. "I r-remember what…happened…in…in the a-apartment."

"Forest hired someone to kill you." Huggy said, coming over from the doorway to sit on the bed.

Hutch nodded. "He was big…" He looked back to Starsky. "Dark hair…br-brown eyes…I…can see his face now. H-hands like…s- sledgehammers. He was 280 pounds, e-easy. We…f-fought in th-the apartment. He w-was waiting for me."

"They found your gun on the floor. You drew down on him, didn't you?" Starsky knew the details of the crime scene inside and out. Both from being there and reading the reports Dobey had brought him to read during Hutch's time in the hospital.

Hutch nodded again. "We grappled on the floor…and then he hit me at least once…th-that I remember. H-here with some-something really h-hard." He pointed to the long row of stitches and staples in his scalp.

"More than once. The doc said you'd been hit at least twice, if not more," Starsky supplied.

"Everyth-thing was jumbled when …when I woke up. H-he's th-the one who shot me up, Starsk."

"I figured as much already." He didn't tell Hutch he'd been to see Forest and already knew that it had been a murder attempt. He supposed it was because he didn't want to worry the big blond blintz. He'd tell him later. Maybe. "We gotta get you to the station and an Identikit. We can get a composite picture out and maybe nab this guy." Starsky placed his hands on Hutch's shoulders and gave him a shake. "You big lummox. You might've just solved this thing." He grinned.

"Maybe. L-lets go get this guy." Hutch replied, with an answering smile.

* * *

Over the next 24 hours, several things occurred, the first of which was creating Hutch's composite of the hit man, using the Identikit. The picture was handed out at the daily briefing, and the description went out across the radio. By the late shift, every officer on the street had a copy of the composite in their cruiser.

The second thing was that Dobey sent some undercovers over to canvass B.F. Shipping. The officers had observed some known dealers entering the shipping company and then leaving soon after. It was enough to get a warrant. The bust would go down tonight after the close of B. F. Shipping's workday, but neither Starsky nor Hutch was allowed to participate in the operation. They watched from the Torino, parked at a safe distance.

In some ways Hutch was glad he was forced to hang back. The aches and pains in his body let him know that he wasn't fit for duty, and he would never endanger colleagues by being a liability. However, the other part of him…the cop part wanted to go in and feel the satisfaction of taking down these criminals that had taken so much away from him.

They went in after the arrests and began poking around in Tucker's office. Hutch looked over the spotlessly clean desk. He moved past it and, while Starsky was checking the file cabinets, he eyed the large painting of a ship hung behind the desk. Removing it from the wall, he turned it over. A list of names was taped to the back.

"Starsk." He held it up, then scanned the first few names. He recognized several from his basic knowledge of the streets: all of them were dealers who worked for one supplier or another who had recently been busted. "These…These are d-dealers."

"Yeah." Starsky nodded as he examined the list as well. "Leon. That's the guy I ran off. These are the foot soldiers…the small time dealers whose suppliers are out of business. This must be the list of who he's going to employ to sell the product."

Hutch nodded, just about to respond, when Dobey entered. "Starsky, Hutch…they found three boxes of heroin, packaged for distribution. It's what we were looking for—they're the same type as that we found at Hutch's."

Starsky gestured with the list. "This here is a list of prospective dealers. We got some good evidence, Cap."

"Good work." Dobey smiled, clapping them both on the shoulder. "If we can get Tucker to roll on Forest, we have it in the bag."

"If not Tucker, then the hit man. If we can get him for what he did to Hutch, he might roll on Forest as well." Starsky looked at Hutch, who nodded.

"Let's get it done then," Dobey nodded. For the first time in days, he felt optimistic that this case would be solved and everything would work out for his best team. "The sooner we get Forest **and** Hutch's hit man in jail, the better I'll be able to sleep at night." He threw the last over his shoulder as he exited the room into the main warehouse building.

"Me…too." Hutch replied softly.

Starsky put his hand on Hutch's shoulder. "Me three, buddy."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**Author's note: The next part of this won't be too far behind. I hope to have the ending posted this weekend. Don't forget...comments make me write even faster! :)**

Later the same afternoon, after stopping at Hutch's to water the plants and pick up a few more things, they headed back to Starsky's with a large half-pepperoni/half-vegetable pizza for dinner and a six-pack. Neither of them noticed the dark colored, new Mustang hatchback following them, always five or six cars behind. Not that the striped tomato would have been hard to keep up with, even ten cars behind.

"So—tell me about this girl at the therapist office."

Hutch rolled his eyes, but a smile touched the corners of his mouth. Starsky was glad to see it. "Nothing. Th-there's nothing to tell," he said, but his eyes gave him away again.

"Uh-huh. I know when you're holding out on me." Starsky grinned. "It's okay, blintz. I'll get it out of you sooner or later. I can be patient."

Hutch eyed his face in the side mirror. The ugly black and blue marks were fading, but the stitches and staples in his scalp looked just plain ugly. Not that he was vain, or anything, but…he found himself wishing for Starsky's knit cap to yank over his head. "She…she's j-just feeling sorry for me, th-that's all," he shrugged. "Sh-she probably thinks I l-look like Frankenstein." He was going to have a few scars left over from this one. Maybe more than just physical scars, he realized.

"Frankenstein? Nah. Son of Frankenstein, maybe…" Starsky raised an eyebrow, now smiling broadly.

Hutch gave him a sidelong glance, his face now more serious. "Don't…think I don't realize what y-you're doing." He reached out and placed his hand gently on Starsky's shoulder. "Thanks f-for everything."

"Oh, don't get to thinkin' I did anything special for you. It's just that it would be too hard to train another partner." Starsky made sure his eyes focused on the road, trying hard to keep the sheen of tears from betraying him. "That's all I'm interested in. Don't make no soapy scenes about it. "

"Uh-huh." Hutch smiled and blinked away his own tears. "Ok."

"That's better." After a few long moments, Starsky cut his eyes to Hutch and found that Hutch was looking sidelong at him as well. They shared an entire conversation in just one glance, then Starsky smiled again. "Yeah. That's much better."

* * *

The two detectives had eaten their fill of pizza and were in the middle of watching the late movie of Vincent Price's "The Last Man on Earth" when Starsky looked over and noticed that Hutch's eyes had slipped closed. They'd stayed up really late. Starsky had realized before midnight that Hutch hadn't wanted to fall asleep alone, perhaps afraid of a nightmare, and so had put off going back to the bedroom for the night. Now he was asleep while lying on the couch, his deep, regular breathing sounding relaxed and comfortable.

Starsky picked up the phone on the table beside his chair and dialed the station's number. It had been a couple of hours since he'd checked in. "This is Starsky. … Oh, yeah, he's doing much better. Thanks. Is there any news about that composite sketch?" He paused, listening to the negative reply as he glanced at Hutch's sleeping form. "Oh, okay. Call me if you hear anything, don't care how late it is….Yeah, thanks." He hung up the phone, feeling anxious. Perhaps the killer HAD been called off by Forest. Still, what if he hadn't? Starsky sighed in frustration; he could worry with this all night with no result.

His eyes drifted back to Hutch. His best friend's progress was amazing. It had only been a week and the violent purple-black bruises were fading. The head wounds were beginning to heal as well. He knew his partner had gotten most of his sense of balance back, but the aches and pains in his body were still slowing him down. The worst part was that Hutch's speech also remained halting and slow. He tried to remind himself that it wasn't bad. Not at all compared with what the alternatives could have been. Heck, he could deal with anything, as long as Hutch was by his side.

The movie was about over, so Starsky got up and went to the bedroom area, retrieving the blanket he'd used on the couch the previous night. He came back and spread it over Hutch, after slipping off his friend's shoes. "Sleep well, buddy," he murmured.

After checking the doors and windows one more time, he turned off the TV. The last thing he did was to leave a small lamp on in the corner of the room, just in case Hutch woke up with another nightmare. Since remembering what Forest's hired killer looked like, the screaming nightmares seemed to have subsided. It was almost as if his mind had been struggling with getting his memories back and as soon as it had happened, Hutch was at peace.

He left the bathroom light on as well. Better to be safe than sorry if he did have to get up with Hutch. Once he lay down, it wasn't long before he was asleep in the quiet of the late evening.

* * *

There was the sound of light scratching, a metallic noise at the door. At first Hutch tried to ignore it, sleep was much more comfortable. However, at the sound of the doorknob opening, he was on his feet and ducking behind the end of the couch without even knowing how he got there. His muscles screamed in protest, but he made no noise. The front door slowly creaked open and Hutch's heart began to beat double time in his chest.

He glanced around him and saw Starsky's Colt, still in the shoulder holster, hanging from the arm of the chair where his friend had left it when they got back. As quickly as he could, Hutch pulled it from the holster and cocked the weapon as quietly as possible. He waited in the semi-darkness , holding his breath.

A gun preceded the large heavily-built man as he passed through the hallway into the living room. Hutch caught a glimpse of his face and his heart froze. It was the man who had tried to kill him. His mind felt divided in two, reliving his previous painful encounter and warily watching the killer glance around the room. The hulk pointed the gun at the sofa, and saw there was no one sleeping on it. Then, he turned toward the bedroom area where a faint light shone.

—_Starsky!_—Hutch realized suddenly that his friend had to be in the other room sleeping. He rose to a standing position silently like a cat stalking prey, ignoring the protests in his body. Then he took a few quick steps closer, using one of Starsky's potted trees for cover. He knew that his aim could be off, and he wanted to be as close as possible before he took the shot, if he had to go that far.

"Drop it." He said through clenched teeth as he took aim. The next actions seemed to happen so fast they were simultaneous.

"Hutch?" Starsky stirred in the bed, sitting up.

"Get down!" Hutch yelled as the hit man took the shot. Starsky rolled from the bed and there was a groan at the same time. Hutch fired and the double tap caught the killer in the center body mass. He whirled and fired again at Hutch, who ducked behind the tree. The bullet made a whizzing sound near his ear and he felt warm blood drip onto his shoulder. Later on, he would remember never having felt any pain.

He came out from cover and emptied his gun into the attacker, who finally dropped to his knees and then crumpled into a heap. Hutch kicked the gun away from the man, knelt to check a pulse, and finding none, he entered Starsky's bedroom, holding his breath…


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 13

Starsky had heard Hutch's voice and it brought him out of a comfortable sleep. There was movement at the door, but the detective didn't have enough time to react to it before obeying Hutch's order automatically. He'd rolled to the side and off the bed, but not before he felt the searing slice of a bullet. With a groan, he hit the floor as the world exploded into gunfire. He felt under the bed for his backup piece, but as soon as his fingers brushed it, the shots stopped. His ears strained for any sound, but heard none. Hutch…his heart lurched in his chest painfully. Was Hutch hit as well? He had to know. "Huuttchh!" He lifted his head above the side of the bed, knowing he shouldn't come out from cover, but daring it anyway. He felt the icy cold fingers of panic slide around his heart, crushing it…

* * *

The world ended for Hutch when he saw the splatter of blood on the bed. Starsky had been lying there only moments before. He tried to call out, to make any sound, but it was impossible. His legs only seemed to work in nightmare-quality slow motion. He had not even made it to the far side of the bed when he heard the yell and then saw Starsky's pale face peek up over the edge. The world started up again when he saw those blue eyes.

"Starsk." The hand strangling his breath seemed to let go as he saw his friend's brilliant blue eyes. "Oh God. I…I th..thought…"

"Me too, buddy." Starsky nodded as he replied, then slowly sank back down to the floor.

Hutch was there immediately. With gentle hands, he moved Starsky's blood soaked t-shirt to the side, searching for the wound. He saw that there was a bullet hole in his friend's left shoulder, and then he realized it could have been close. If Starsky hadn't moved when he did, the bullet would have struck his heart.

"Hutch, are you ok?" Starsky's voice was worried, but Hutch ignored it, focused solely on his friend.

"Put…your h-hand h-ere." Hutch had yanked a shirt off the bedroom chair and folded it into a square. He put Starsky's hand on it, then got up to call for backup and an ambulance, but his friend's iron grip held his arm.

"You're covered in blood." Starsky reached up with his good arm, eyeing the damage as he tilted Hutch's head to the side. . "Are you OK?" After a moment, Starsky fell back with a relieved look on his face. "It grazed you. Right above your ear."

"Yep. Let's worry about you, r-right now, Superman." Hutch replied, going for the phone.

"Oh I'm not worried. That scar will add to your mystique, Frankenhutch. You're a shoe-in for a date with the speech therapist now. You haven't noticed how those girls are looking at you lately…They think you're all tough and rugged." Starsky shuddered, feeling a sudden chill. "Uh…is it getting colder in here, or is it just me?"

Hutch dragged the phone back over to Starsky and grabbed the warm comforter from the bed. He tucked it around his friend as he fed dispatch information. He forced himself to get out each word without stumbling too badly on them. He was afraid if he began to struggle, his speech would lock up altogether. "Yeah. Listen carefully-this is Detective Hutchinson. We've got an officer with a gunshot wound and one dead intruder. We n-need an ambulance at Detective Starsky's…residence. Yeah, that's the address. S-send some uniforms too." He hung up the phone after hearing the affirmative.

"So you got the guy." Starsky murmured through clenched teeth; the signs of pain were beginning to show on him.

Hutch smoothed back Starsky's hair from his cool, clammy forehead, and checked his eyes. His friend's pupils were dilating—further evidence of shock. "Yeah, I got him."

"Good." Starsky's eyes showed a visceral satisfaction.

"Tell me about it." Hutch returned Starsky's smile. "Now we can get a g-good night's sleep f-for a change."

Starsky smiled for a minute and then his eyes slipped closed and his hand fell from the makeshift bandage. Hutch immediately began putting pressure on the wound, feeling the warm blood seeping up through the fabric. "Hey-no sleepin' on the job, Starsk." When his partner didn't respond, Hutch shook him.

"Okay." The blue eyes opened and met his. "Gettin' a little woozy here. Sorry."

"Don't go tr-tryin' to get any sympathy from me. I know you only got…shot so you could steal all the girls out from under me." Hutch's teasing words contrasted with his gentle gestures as he made Starsky more comfortable by slipping a pillow under his head.

"You figured out my master plan…" Starsky groaned as Hutch continued to apply pressure to the wound. "Um, I'm beginning to think my master plan sucks."

Hutch couldn't help but laugh just a little. They talked through the wait, Hutch keeping Starsky focused and awake.

Finally, the sound of ambulance and police sirens cut through the night. Hutch listened, holding Starsky's gaze. They both held their breath as they heard the footsteps on the front porch and then heard the front door open and cries of "Police!"

"H..hey—we're back here." Hutch called.

Dobey, looking rumpled and half-asleep, was there along with the uniforms. Hutch looked down at Starsky. "Dobey got out of bed to come over here. I think we should be touched."

"Stuff it, Hutchinson." Dobey said, but, of course, he didn't mean it. "Bring the paramedics back here." He gestured to an officer, throwing orders around to get Starsky cared for first. Hutch continued to monitor Starsky, but was listening to Dobey's experienced voice; he was an old hand at running a crime scene.

"I'll be right here w-with you." Hutch said to Starsky as he had to step back to allow the paramedics access. They removed the blanket and examined him closely.

"He's going to be just fine." One of the paramedics, a brown-haired man with kind eyes, spoke to Hutch and Dobey after checking Starsky's vital signs.

"Yep, see, it's nothing. They'll stitch this up, put in a few quarts and I'll be good as new, blintz. Except I'll be the lady killer, now." The paramedic raised an eyebrow at the banter, and Hutch shrugged.

"He's obviously delirious." Hutch explained, making the crazy sign near his head. The words were joking, but he reached a hand over and squeezed Starsky's uninjured shoulder, letting him know everything with the simple touch-all the things that he wouldn't…couldn't say in front of so many unfamiliar faces.

Starsky smiled a little at the repartee, then at Hutch's gesture. The dark-haired detective had begun to shiver a bit; the paramedic immediately responded by covering him with a blanket before wheeling him out.

"Hutchinson. I'm gonna need a report on my desk. But after you get done with Starsky at the hospital. Call me if you need anything." Dobey followed them to the door and stood watching Hutch climb in the back of the ambulance with Starsky. "Anything at all."

"Thanks, Cap." Hutch called, and then the doors were closed and they were off.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's note: This is the end. I hope you enjoyed this little story that became an epic for me. Please pay me with comments when you get done! LOL! I treasure each and every comment, my friends. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

Chapter 15

It had been only a month and a half since the shooting at Starsky's and the case was on its way to being wrapped up. Forest had been out on the street for only four hours before officers had arrested him for conspiracy to commit murder, and murder for hire. Tucker had rolled over on Forest, just like two of the dealers on the list that Hutch had found. Tucker had admitted to working with the hit man on the orders of his boss, and that was the final nail in both his and Forest's coffin. All in all, Starsky found himself feeling better about the future than he'd felt in a long time as he pulled up at Hutch's apartment.

He bounded up the stairs and gave a slight rap on Hutch's door before entering. "Hutch?"

"Yeah?" His partner walked out of the bathroom, shirtless, toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. He resumed brushing as Starsky came in. "You're early."

Starsky glanced at his watch. "Oh, I guess I am." He made his way into the kitchen and found a half-eaten pizza in the fridge. It was vegetable pizza, but beggars couldn't be choosers, he thought as he hopped up on the counter and began on his first slice.

He was finishing his second slice when Hutch came out of the bathroom, tugging on his favorite green tee. He merely shook his head at Starsky and smiled as he strapped on his shoulder holster. Starsky had changed in some ways over the last two months, but in others he was predictably just the same. Hutch knew he would want it no other way.

"First day back on the beat." Starsky said, eyeing his best friend.

"Yeah." Hutch pulled on a plaid flannel shirt.

"You ready?" Starsky asked gently. He realized the both of them had been ready for this day to come for a while. It was time things got back to normal. Busting criminals and cruising the streets—**their** streets.…It was about time.

Hutch nodded, then met Starsky's eyes, and they shared a silent moment. "Y-you know, I wouldn't be here if not for you, Starsk." He said softly, a smile turning his mouth up at the corner.

"Same here." Starsky replied. He thought back to all they had been through. Physically, they were both fully recovered. Starsky's recovery had been easier than Hutch's in many ways; he had been left with another scar on his chest, to match the others, but no lasting ill-effects.

Most of the lasting mementos of Hutch's second tangle with Forest and his goons were now beginning to be covered with Hutch's honey-colored hair. He'd let it grow longer than before, in order to hide the worst of the scars. There was still a slight stutter to his voice, especially when Hutch got particularly exasperated with something, but Starsky found that he couldn't remember if it was new, or if Hutch had always done that. Their scars had become a part of them, he realized, and incorporating those moments of weakness had made each of them stronger.

"What?" Hutch began to feel a little self-conscious as Starsky sat there, just watching him and not saying anything.

"Just thinkin'." Starsky replied.

"About what?"

Starsky shrugged. "You know I'm not good as good as you with words, Shakespeare." He looked down as he swung his feet slightly.

"Go ahead, Starsk. What is it?" Hutch waited patiently.

"Just thinkin' about scars. I mean, we've healed up, but some things…you can't fix with a band-aid. Maybe that's the stuff that makes us stronger."

"Maybe so." Hutch spoke thoughtfully. Starsky was like a river. Most people only saw his partner's surface, but there was so much more underneath in those deep currents of thought that he hardly spoke about. It still surprised him sometimes. "It definitely makes us who we are."

"I don't like who we'd be without each other." Starsky spoke softly, sliding off of the counter. "I got too close a look at that while you were in the hospital." He remembered his conversations with Leon and Forest. They could have easily turned into more than just talk if he'd been pushed. He'd been walking a fine edge then; being back on the right side of that knife edge made it easy to see how close he'd come to taking a step in the wrong direction.

Hutch nodded, agreeing. It had only been seconds that he'd thought Starsky might have been dead after the hit man shot him, but they were as long and horrible as any nightmare he'd ever had. "I know."

"I almost lost my mind when you were…when we thought you might not…" He couldn't say it all, and the horrible truth of the statement hit him quickly and unexpectedly. It had been over a month since it all had happened, yet the fierce emotion was as raw and as sudden as it had been then. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to regain some control over his wheeling thoughts.

Hutch came over and put a hand on Starsky's neck, pulling him close so that their foreheads touched. He looked into his friend's eyes, blue on blue, each of them staring into the other's heart. "I didn't, though. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere without you, buddy." Reluctantly, he let go and stepped back. It was hard to watch Starsky struggling with the very thing that he, himself, struggled with. The idea of one losing the other was unbearable. It was at once their worst fear and the thing that made them strong. He would die before he allowed something to happen to Starsky and he knew that Starsky felt the same about him.

"Starsk." He had turned to see where he had left his jacket, when it hit him. He turned and met his friend's gaze. "Y-you know…when I was in the h-hospital, I remember hearing your voice. Knowing you were there, even before I woke up." He smiled as he recalled the soft sound of Starsky's voice. He hadn't understood anything that had been said, but the voice had been reassuring. Starsky had been the thread that had led him back to the waking world. "I knew…I knew t-that everything was okay because you were there."

"I…I didn't know what to do, so I talked. I had hoped you could hear me."

"I did." Hutch walked across the room, finding his jacket thrown over the back of the couch. He caught his friend's gaze. "I'll always hear you, Starsk."

Starsky seemed to think a moment, and then nodded, feeling reassured. He followed Hutch to the door.

"Now, I don't know about you, buddy, but I'm ready to go out there and catch some criminals." Hutch opened the door and gestured for Starsky to exit first.

"I've been waiting a long time to hear you say that." Starsky smiled. "Let's go, blintz."

"You bet, partner." Hutch replied, shutting the door behind them.


End file.
